


Chamomile

by rachel_exe



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bath Sex, Bottom Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, Smut, Top Jaskier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:07:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22129201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rachel_exe/pseuds/rachel_exe
Summary: He can still smell the blood on Geralt and the sweat from the fight, but the chamomile gives a sweeter undertone to it all, a reminder that after all, there is still something he can hope for.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 63
Kudos: 1061
Collections: Good Relationship Etiquette (familial included) - or Good BDSM Etiquette - or Good Relationship and BDSM Etiquette





	Chamomile

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first contribution to the geraskier fandom, I hope you all enjoy it :)

"I really thought that ghoul had you for a moment there, you know?" Jaskier says, filling a jar with warm water. "It makes for another thrilling stanza to add to my ballad."

"I'm so lucky I'm still alive to hear it," Geralt comments. 

Jaskier laughs at the sarcasm and moves in front of the bathtub where Geralt is, remnants of the beast’s skin still in his hair and pink water falling in droplets down his chest. It is quite the sight if Jaskier has to be honest. 

"The public will love it," he replies. "You'll be rich in no time." 

Geralt grunts and proceeds to wash his shoulders, cracking his neck with a deep sigh. The subtle steam produced by the hot water does little to cover what's underneath it, and Jaskier takes a peep at it, raising a brow in appreciation. The Witcher has caught his eye ever since their first encounter, his brooding attitude only adding to the charm. 

He moves behind Geralt and starts pouring water on his hair and back. Honestly, he doesn't have to, he's quite sure someone else at inn would gladly do it, and he's even more sure he isn't going to get anything out of this, but he likes it, likes being around Geralt and see him grunt at his teasing. 

"I could put the new stanza between the ones where you fight a devil and a werewolf," he continues as he starts rubbing Geralt's back. "I don't have to put events in order, you know? It's a good strategy to keep people’s attention." 

He applies a gentle pressure to his rubbing, feeling Geralt's scars under his fingertips and appreciating those strong muscles gained in battle. 

"Jaskier?" Geralt calls, stopping his own movements. 

"What? You think I should put it somewhere else?” 

“What are you doing with your hands?” 

“Oh.” Jaskier stops, fingers already dipping under the water. “Rubbing your back?” 

“Why?” 

“I know cleanliness isn’t your forte, but going around stinking of horse piss and blood is a personal offense to the rest of humanity.” Geralt turns his head, glaring at him, but an idea suddenly strikes Jaskier's mind. “You know what? Since I’m feeling so kind today, I’m going to rub some of that chamomile you really like on your bottom.” 

“I think I’ll pass,” Gerard says, turning around again. 

“No need to be shy with me, admit riding felt a lot better the next day,” Jaskier teases, already going to a shelf to take what he needs. 

Geralt is quiet for a few moments before he speaks again. “Fine.” 

Jaskier grins and is by Geralt’s side again in two fast strokes. “I promise it’ll feel really good. Lift your bottom now, c’mon.” 

Geralt grunts and holding onto the edges of the bath, he stands on his knees. Water drips down his body, tracing the curves of his spine and thick thighs, and Jaskier has to bite his lips to contain the groan that comes to life inside him. Geralt really is a sight to behold. 

"Scoot backwards a little," Jaskier says, sitting on a stool behind him. 

“I didn’t recall it being this awkward,” the Witcher says as he moves towards Jaskier, eyes looking in front of him. 

“No need to be embarrassed, it’s just me, your favourite bard and companion of adventures.” 

Jaskier rubs the oil between his fingers and places them on Geralt's ass with such a care even he is surprised. He starts the massage with gentle touches, adding a little pressure just where he knows it feels good. He has to admit this isn’t the first time he does this kind of things nor the first time he does it to Geralt, but seeing him almost lose his life on the battlefield that day has changed his perspective on things. 

He works from the outside in, slowly caressing Geralt’s sides before moving closer to his crack. His touch is always gentle, and his beat never regular. Geralt's hands on the edges of the bath are almost white from how hard he is clutching them, and that’s when Jaskier notices his breath is slightly ragged. He briefly wonders why, even hopes until one of his fingers goes particularly close to Geralt’s hole, and he distinctively hears a grunt. 

It isn’t the usual annoyed grunt, one that told Geralt was pissed or too old for whatever shit he was dealing with, it was different. More aroused. 

“Everything okay there?” he asks. 

Geralt clears his throat. “Yes.” 

Jaskier smirks because he knows the Witcher is lying. “I’m skilled in many fields, you know? My main occupation is singing ballads, but I’m equally good at delivering… pleasure.” 

“You mean you’re equally bad,” Geralt says, but his voice betrays him again. 

“Oh, hush.” Jaskier playfully hits his behind. “So, what do you say? I wouldn’t be against it.” 

Jaskier wonders if he has been too straightforward, and for the first time he is thankful his and Geralt’s paths sometimes diverge. Maybe this way they will both forget about the awkwardness that's already hanging in the air. His hands never move, but neither does Geralt as the silence prolongs for a few seconds. 

“Fine,” the Witcher eventually says. “But not a word to anyone.” 

“Not even a short line in my next ballad?” Jaskier jokes to hide the relief that washes over him. 

“No,” Geralt deadpans, looking at him from over his shoulder. There is still some blood on his forehead, and his features look softer than usual, but then again, the candles don't do a good job at lighting up the room. 

“As you wish, Witcher.” 

Jaskier’s fingers trace Geralt’s ass again, following the same path as before, only this time they graze over his hole as well. The Witcher winces, and his thighs lightly tremble, but he doesn't speak, so Jaskier pours some more oil directly on his ass. The smell of chamomile immediately spreads around the room. It’s faint and delicate, the complete opposite of how Geralt usually smells, but it’s soothing and relaxing, just what Jaskier needs in this moment. 

His middle finger circles Geralt’s hole, teasing and giving him the chance to call this whole thing off if he wants to, but Geralt doesn’t, so Jaskier pushes the finger inside. A quiet “fuck” comes from Geralt, it’s almost inaudible, but Jaskier catches it immediately. He smirks as he fingers him, as Geralt sucks him in every time, and is still smirking when he adds another finger. 

“Everything good?” he asks, and only when his voice comes out he realises how much the moment is affecting him as well. 

“Yeah,” Geralt replies, almost moans. 

Jaskier wishes they were on a bed with Geralt lying on his back and his golden eyes looking at him, morphed by pleasure and openly telling him what he wants to know. For now he cherishes the soft grunts leaving his mouth and enjoys the view in front of him. He has to admit this position isn’t that bad either with Geralt's lovely bottom right in front of him. It looks so tempting and wonderful he almost doesn’t think when he bends forward to press a kiss on it. 

He stops there, lips a few inches away from Geralt’s skin and fingers still inside of him. He doesn’t know what got to him, he knows he probably shouldn’t have done it, but Geralt surprises him once more that night. 

“Jaskier,” he moans, actually moans, and he moves his ass backwards ever so slightly, closing the distance between him and Jaskier’s lips again. 

The following kiss comes almost by instinct to Jaskier, and even this time he doesn’t actually think about what he’s doing. It just feels right. 

“You look very good from this angle, I have to admit.” 

“Thanks,” Geralt breathes out. 

“You look very good from every angle, to be honest, but I think I like this one the best, it’s so enticing, and just so nice.” 

“You’re doing it again,” Geralt says, impatient. 

“Doing what?” Jaskier asks. 

“Blabbing.” 

“I don’t blab,” Jaskier protests. “I just like to profusely express my thoughts, unlike someone else.” 

“I like action,” Geralt comments, and Jaskier knows exactly what he means. 

He removes his fingers, and Geralt turns to glare at him, but Jaskier just smiles and moves his face between the Witcher’s cheeks. He doesn’t need to look to know that Geralt has dropped his head, he just needs to hear the groan that comes from him. His tongue darts out and he laps at the hole he has just fingered. He tastes the chamomile in his mouth along with Geralt’s own scent, so intoxicating he can’t help but want more. 

He plunges his tongue inside, holding Geralt's ass between his hands. The position he is in isn’t comfortable, once again a bed would be nicer, but he is already glad he is able to do this to his favourite Witcher, able to taste him so intimately like he has so desperately wanted. He feels Geralt’s muscles close around him, his hips pushing backwards, and his voice slowly rising. 

“Jaskier,” he calls again. “I need more.” Jaskier fucks him with his tongue again, but he stops him immediately. “That’s not what I meant.” 

Jaskier pulls back in a matter of seconds and blankly blinks a few times. “Are you suggesting what I’m thinking?” 

“Yes, Jaskier, don’t make me repeat myself.” 

“Move forwards then.” 

As Geralt makes room for him, Jaskier hastily removes his trousers. His cock bounces out of them, hard and red, and he coats it with more oil. He steps into the now lukewarm water, but Geralt’s skin is on fire under his touch, and he is sure inside him it’ll be even better. His cock slides between Geralt’s cheeks, and he teases his entrance before pushing inside. 

He was right, inside feels so much better, it’s so hot and tight he almost comes on the spot. He is slow in his movements, relishing in the moment, not knowing when he’ll get another chance. Geralt is surprisingly more expressive, not really loud, but definitely more vocal. Sighs, moans, and “fuck” come from him, and his knuckles are white for how hard he is gripping the bath. Jaskier places a hand on his and bends forward to press a kiss between Geralt shoulder blades. 

“You’re wonderful inside too.” 

“Fuck off,” Geralt grunts. 

“Sorry, I didn’t hear properly, did you say, ‘fuck me’?” Jaskier teases. “Because I can certainly do that.” 

“It doesn’t seem like it.” 

“Really?” Jaskier asks, jerking his hips forward. 

Geralt gasps, caught off guard, and he lowers his head, showing the chain holding the pendant around his neck. Jaskier grins, but he isn’t doing much better, he’s as far gone as Geralt is. He snaps his hips again, and moans spill from his mouth, almost as melodical as his songs. They mix with the splash of the water and the sweet grunts coming from Geralt. He wishes there was a way to record how one sounds to hear those moans whenever he wants, but maybe, just maybe, he will be the cause of them again in the future. 

He fucks Geralt hard, but as he comes closer to his orgasm he slows down and leans to kiss his back again. Scars are covering it, marks of adventures Geralt still hasn’t told him about, of the countless times he risked his life as it happened in the morning. He traces them with his fingers as he rocks inside of Geralt, commits them to memory for the nights he’ll have to spend alone. 

He hunches over him, grasping his hand and kissing his shoulders. He can still smell the blood on Geralt and the sweat from the fight, but the chamomile gives a sweeter undertone to it all, a reminder that after all there is still something he can hope for. 

“Fuck, Jaskier,” Geralt groans as he starts stroking himself. 

With quick snaps of his hips, Jaskier takes him to his orgasm, fucking into him until he can’t hold back any longer and pressing sloppy kisses wherever he can reach. Geralt spills himself in the water, and when he hears it, Jaskier comes too, emptying himself inside of that heat he’ll never be able to forget. 

The aftermath is messy to say the least. He helps Geralt clean himself, almost makes him come again with his fingers and finally gets a good look of the Witcher’s face. 

“We should do this more often,” he says. “You don’t look half as pissed as usual.” 

Geralt snorts and for what Jaskier suspects isn’t going to be the last time, he surprises him again. 

“Maybe we really should,” he replies with a kiss that tastes of chamomile. 

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is highly appreciated :)  
> [ Tumblr ](https://geraskier-hell.tumblr.com/)


End file.
